


Fragility in Beauty

by charmainders



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Boys In Love, Comfort, Dreams, Haikyuu Angst Week 2020, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Kissing, Language of Flowers, M/M, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor Original Character(s), Needles, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmainders/pseuds/charmainders
Summary: Love is a funny thing.Suga knows it all too well, too much for the personal comfort of his own. Between falling for his best friend and getting diagnosed with Hanahaki, he thinks about his options, goes through life, and learns to cope with everything that comes in between including the emotions, the throwing up, the crying, and all of the small details he had never bothered to look at in the past.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	Fragility in Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> > **  
> _Purity and innocence; fragility in beauty; rarity in devotion. Anything to feel something._  
> **  
> 
> 
> before beginning, please _beware!_ as much as i would love to make a fic that's trigger free, writing about _Hanahaki, a fictional disease,_ is bound to be accompanied with many other medical conditions. **trigger warnings** are in place for: hospitals, blood, medicine, depression, anxiety, mentions of death and needles. please be careful! if you are unable to cope, please take a step back and recover! thank you!! 

_Too hazy._

He groans at the feeling, lethargic and way too clouded in his mind to even try and attempt to sit up, so he tries to rub his eyes to at least get something going, but he’s acutely aware of the needle inserted in the back of his hand, and the pulsing feeling of something wrapped around his arm. He opens his eyes a little more and takes a deeper, sharper breath of air (ow, his lungs), then exhales slowly before clenching his hand to regain some feeling. 

_He hates the feeling of being weak._

“Koshi?” he hears, and he turns his head over to see who had called him. He doesn’t recognize the figure, nor the uniform, so his first instinct is to nod and look at the nurse that was by his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

Suga contemplates the question through a fit of coughs. “Like shit.”

The nurse laughs under her breath as she hands him a cup of water. He sits up, balancing himself on his own elbow, and takes the cup. “Understandable. I’ll go let the doctor and your parents know you’re awake.” 

Suga merely nods before relaxing again, closing his eyes to catch a small bit of sleep. He can distinctively feel the nurse remove the blood pressure monitor from his bicep, and adjust something with his IV drip before she leaves. There’s other noises, mainly from the other patients in the same room, but it doesn’t concern him as much. He wakes up slowly again when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Koshi, it’s me.” he hears the feminine voice, and he opens his eyes to glance at his mother, the ever familiar, loving eyes that she gave all the time. “We found you passed out in the bathroom when you didn’t leave at the usual time for school and we got worried, so we decided to bring you to the hospital instead.” she explains, and Suga suddenly remembers why he’s here.

* * *

He had been feeling fine the night before. So why was Suga fighting against a fever at four in the early crack of dawn, sweating out possibly every bit of hydration he had in his body, and feeling so damn lethargic that he couldn’t even move a muscle? Was it the long all nighter he had tried to pull but drastically failed, or was it the training sessions that had been wearing him out? Suga couldn’t tell. All he wanted to do was get up and get some water, but he resolved to trying to go back to sleep, not wanting to wake his parents up by yelling. With his blanket over his shoulders, he tries to at least sweat it out so he can be back to the usual, or at least some semblance of normal when he has to wake up.

When his alarm goes off at seven, the stinging sound of the alarm pierces and he has to muster every bit of energy he can manage before finally standing on his two feet. The room swarms, and he’s confused on why his body feels so damn heavy. The fever is down, but he can feel it returning, and one glance in the bathroom mirror tells him all - bloodshot eyes, too pale lips, hair like a bird’s nest. Someone needed to help him learn to not overwork himself.

There had been a warm, uncomfortable feeling deep in his stomach, and the more Suga thinks about it as he stares in the mirror at his own reflection, he remembers feeling it the whole week prior to today. It had been there during volleyball, during class, during lunch, every occasion he could think of. Through the week he had been getting random dizzy spells, too, coughing getting progressively worse, a tight chest, his head pounding, but ignoring it all in favour of practicing to enhance his skill. He remembers telling Daichi and Asahi about it after class before the weekend, but the three of them had chosen to ignore it. 

He smiles faintly and in a lovesick manner, thinking about Daichi. 

He thinks about how Daichi will probably chase him back home when he sees Suga at the gate, telling him he looks too pale like his own hair, and then tell the upperclassmen that he wants to be excused so he can bring Suga home _(this would not be the first time),_ and thinks about how Daichi will give him a whole shopping list’s worth of a lecture before he returns to school for volleyball.

 _Daichi..._ Caring, smart, able to adapt. Suga doesn’t deserve a friend as amazing as Daichi has been, able to put up with him and even walks home with him everyday. He cares more about Suga than he cares about himself, and frankly it does wonders to his poor soul.

Suga feels the warmth in his stomach intensify too much, and without warning it shoots up his throat, and quicker than he can react, the bile is foul in his mouth.

He barely makes the toilet.

When his parents realize he hasn’t left the house for class at eight sharp, judging by the way his white and blue-green accent shoes and white socks still sat at the front door, and how his knee pads were unpacked, they rush to find Suga in his room, only to find him passed out by the toilet bowl.

Inside it, they spot a handful of flowers; some white with yellow cores, and some transparent in the water.

* * *

Suga’s father takes the seat on the opposite side of the bed after he inclines the bed so Suga can sit up and regain his composure. “Is there something you wanna tell us?”

Suga contemplates again. The feeling of bile still tastes horrible at the back of his mouth, and all he can think about is the warm feeling and tight chest that hasn’t gone away since the week before. His parents know he hasn’t been feeling fantastic the whole week, but he didn’t think it would have escalated into a fever and passing out on the floor of the bathroom.

He’s used to keeping most of the things that happens to him to himself. He prefers to do it most of the times; he’s a single child and his parents are hard working people who earn a decent pay to keep their family going. If anything, he didn’t want to worry his parents. Suga is highly independent - home by eleven, cooks his own bento sets for school, does the laundry on Sundays after he finishes his homework while his parents rest. He can take care of himself when his parents are away from home for work.

So this is the _last_ thing he wanted to do: be seated in a hospital room with his parents.

“I don’t really know.” he manages, trying not to choke on the feeling in his throat. As far as he knows, it’s not anything he’s eaten.

His mother sighs, sitting on the bed beside him, taking his right hand. “When we found you in the morning, you were passed out on the bathroom. No cuts, no bumps. You were out cold, but we noticed flowers in the toilet. Both of us know what it is.” she gives a worried glance to his father, before turning back to Suga.

Suga soon finds out what the look meant: when his parents were younger, his mother had thrown up flowers, too, after falling in love with his father. She had kept it on the downlow for most of their years in college, before his father found her one day in her dorm room, weak and hands bloodied. When she took her hands away, there were flowers that spilled from her hands, some in white and red. They had turned out to be chrysanthemums, meaning truthful, loyal love. Suga doesn’t need to listen to it further to know his father did feel the same way.

As far as Suga could swallow; what Suga had been experiencing were symptoms of an incredibly rare disease: _Hanahaki._ It’s so incredibly rare that the doctors had been surprised to be dealing with this, their first cases ever. He learns from the doctor that _Hanahaki_ has no fixed lifespan for the future - he may live for maybe five to seven years more, a decade if he’s lucky, but if he doesn’t start medicinal use and therapy, his span will drastically decrease overtime. 

He also learns that there is also another method that can cure him for good involving surgery to remove the stems, but there’s a catch that makes his stomach knot and turn in a thousand different directions: _he loses his capacity to love. Forever._

Suga throws up what he’s been trying to hold back when he hears that from the doctor. 

It’s the same, small flower, a white one with a yellow core, but Suga notices how it turns transparent when the flower petal touches his bodily fluids.

 _It’s beautiful,_ he thinks, before hurling again into the bag the nurse provides.

* * *

He returns to school two days later, feeling somewhat better even if he’s fighting the feeling of throwing up consistently, the warm ache in his stomach, and the slightly too tight chest. The day goes by slowly and he thanks whoever is watching over him that nobody really seems to ask about his hospitalization other than a few mutters of get well soon. He doesn’t think he wants to explain it at all.

At lunch, he sits beside Daichi and Asahi with his own bento. His mother had made egg rolls, something easier for him to swallow and digest as he fights through his own nausea. But as he spends time with the two, the more he’s aware of the bile forming in his throat. It’s so bitter that he contemplates just doing it here, _at least_ one of them would notice and help him if he does pass out, but then he remembers why he was even battling this to begin with, and he excuses himself. He doesn’t miss the eyes of worry that Daichi gives, and him asking if he can accompany Suga, which only makes the sensation worse.

Suga merely shakes his head, then running off and trying not to pass anything before he reaches. When he does reach the toilet, he shuts it fast, locks it, and throws up in the bowl.

It’s the same flower, white with a yellow core, but the petals turn clear when they hit the water. There’s also specks of tiny, budding roses, missing some of its petals. He cringes as he tries to rid of it.

When he returns, the two boys look at him.

“Are you okay?” Daichi asks, frowning as he places a gentle hand on Suga’s arm. 

_Oh, if he only knew._

“Yeah, yeah! Totally fine. Just needed to wash my face and clean up.” he shrugs it off, together with that thought in his mind, not wanting to talk much about it. Daichi gives Asahi a look of concern. 

“You were literally hospitalized. Are you sure you’re in good enough shape to be back to practice?” Asahi asks this time, before Suga glances up and nods. He doesn’t really have much to offer to this conversation, just wanting to eat his bento in peace. Asahi lets the conversation die, and they just eat their respective bentos in comfortable silence.

Suga is almost done when he feels his hand being bumped slightly. He turns and looks at Daichi, who’s hand is beside Suga’s. His stomach feels way too warm suddenly at the wide smile that Daichi gives, the kind that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle and curve into crescents, the kind that makes his cheek look like mochi.

“Are you still hungry? I can give you some of my food.” he gestures to his bento, and Suga declines, shaking his head.

“I’m all good. Thank you though,” Suga gives a small smile, saying it under his breath. 

Daichi shrugs with the cutest grin Suga thinks he’s ever seen on his face. _Oh no._ “It’s fine. I’m just concerned. I mean-” Daichi bumps his shoulder with his own, the grin wide on his cheeks, and Suga can’t help but laugh in return too. _Fuck,_ all he wants to do is to kiss that grin. “That’s what best friends do, isn’t it? Look out for each other?”

Suga swallows that bit of bile that churns in his throat and forces it to stay down through another bite of his egg rolls.

Today was challenging him more than he wanted.

* * *

He spends the weekend at Daichi’s so he can catch up on the class homework he’s missed and to study for the upcoming class test. It’s a bad decision he makes on his part, allowing himself to lower his guard around Daichi, because he can feel the warm feeling in his stomach intensify ten fold and he’s restricting that feeling he can recognize too well. It’s only been about two weeks since he was diagnosed but he knows it all.

Daichi is patient in teaching him - from maths to english to history, he picks up everything he missed in school and can piece the missing concepts together to work on his weak areas. Suga is also proud of himself for being able to hold down the bile that he feels edging the mid-section of his oesophagus, and the poking sensation from what he assumes is the beginning of the stem of a rose. 

“Suga?” Daichi calls out, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, noting the way Suga seemed to be holding in something. 

Suga waves it off. “I’m all good. Where were we on that history essay?” he asks, reaching to get his textbook and flipping it open to the stated pages on his worksheet, but is intercepted by Daichi’s hand, and the book falls shut. Suga protests with a quiet whine, because he’s sure that there’s still stuff Daichi has yet to go through. He does it softly though, so it comes out more like a puppy whining, because Suga is considerate enough to think about Daichi’s siblings and parents who are likely sleeping.

“You look exhausted,” Daichi comments, offering his hand to Suga and helping him to his feet. Suga’s stomach does flips at that show of affection, and he ignores it completely. “Let’s get you something to eat and then off to bed.” 

Daichi must’ve remembered that Suga hadn’t had his last round of medication for the night, something for his respiratory, so he can breathe correctly through the night, as well as for his blood pressure regulation. The doctors were worried about his airway with all these flowers, but Suga had only told Daichi it was for the cold, and that Suga had the tendency to need this medication when sick _(a white lie. Suga hardly falls this ill and wonders if Daichi will ever find out, honestly.)_

Suga blinks, before nodding and silently thanking Daichi as he follows the other to the kitchen. At Daichi’s discretion, Suga drinks a warm glass of milk and has some digestives. Both of them stand around in the kitchen as Suga eats slowly. They have nowhere to be in the morning, so both of them take it slow. Suga takes his time to observe Daichi as the latter heats the milk up in the microwave - his muscles were beginning to bulk more, his physique getting sharper, his hips slender unde his shirt, but did not hide the outline of his back muscles. He has to shake it off, trying not to come off as creepy while staring. He also clears his throat of the bile that’s rising.

Suga is going through his third digestive when Daichi clears his throat. “How are you coping after being in the hospital?”

_Really? Now?_

Suga grimaces at the mention of the hospital, nerves causing his stomach to turn and knot again. He can feel the flower in his throat, which he holds down with a gulp of milk. “They’re still making sure nothing is wrong. So far they’re optimistic it’s a one time thing, except for my low blood pressure, so there’s nothing to worry about.” he explains and tries not to reveal too much. As much as he and Daichi were close, there were some things that were better off left unsaid. This was just one on the long grocery list.

Daichi is suspicious for a split second, but doesn’t say anything even if Suga knows what Daichi is thinking from that one facial expression he makes. He holds up his pinky to Suga, and gives a tiny, unsure smile. “Promise me you’ll tell me anything if you need me, alright?” he asks, and Suga nods, returning the gesture by linking their pinkies. _Of course,_ Suga thinks, _it’s not like it needed to be said. They were best friends, even if they only knew each other for half a year, it’s no lie when anyone can see that the both of them rely on each other a lot in class and practice. They’re almost so close, attached at the hip, inseparable, almost like soulmates._

The last word makes Suga almost throw up his sip of milk. He gulps it down and quickly takes his medication so he doesn’t have to feel constricted again.

“Promise.” he nods through a mouthful of biscuits, a smile on his cheeks to hide everything.

* * *

He begins throwing up flowers with shades close to black, and it’s a rose. 

Suga finds out the meanings of all the flowers he’s been throwing up since the mid of the year. The first one he ever threw up, the white ones with a small yellow core, the one he thinks is beautiful, otherwise a skeleton flower, or _diphylleia grayi._ It is incredibly rare, so tiny, and while it looks typical, it’s rare to find. White flowers are a symbol of purity and innocence, and Suga thinks that’s two good words to describe his love for Daichi.

Then he thinks about the red roses. Those are obvious; passion and another way to say _I love you._ Suga cringes at the thought of how direct his body can be at times.

The last one confuses him. Black roses. Black is usually associated with death, he knows well enough, but then he realizes later, as he searches it up, that it also means devotion. It also expresses rarity in devotion; the kind of love that is only for the other person. The colour reminds him of Daichi’s hair, and the small thorns add to it.

_It’s beautiful, and yet incredibly tragic._

He spends the night thinking about Daichi as he desperately tries to sleep.

* * *

His first year of being diagnosed with Hanahaki passes, and so does the first year of high school. Suga learns to cope with the introduction of medication, even if it makes him feel depressed and even more anxious all the time, he learns to smile again and to at least take care of himself. 

The medication comes with more emotional side effects than he realizes. Between the days of being too depressed, too sluggish and forcing himself out of bed for school, or the days of being exhausted by the time he finishes, all he wants to do is just feel somewhat okay again. Therapy helps at times and his therapist is genuinely open to him doing walk-ins when he needs to.

But even if he wants to feel okay again, he doesn’t want to go through surgery at all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to live. His parents have tried to convince him of the options, saying that he’ll live till an old age if he does. He can live a normal life again. But how normal is it really if he can’t fall in love again, or do anything just to feel _something?_ He can’t decide and slots it in the back of his mind for another time.

He contemplates the morality of his situation and his options on one of the days while he swallows his blood pressure medication one day while they’re getting ready to practice. He dumps his stuff in his locker before closing it, tucking his hair carefully, and adjusting his shoelaces so he looks proper. The reflection in the mirror shows a man who’s confident enough and happy to step out and do his best, but Suga knows better.

Through the day he feels fine. Between the slightly forced smiles and the attempts to set properly for Asahi, he does decently enough. Daichi turns to him every now and then during practice to give him a thumbs up. Suga’s stomach churns more.

It’s the one set he does that sends him into a dangerous coughing fit. They’re nearing the end of the practice session, the sky outside is pinkish in the early hours of the sunset, and Suga missed his timing so badly that he rushed to get the receive from the spike Daichi tried. He falls to the ground and is on his knees and palms, trying to restrict his coughing so he doesn’t throw up, because as far as he can tell, there’s a flower stuck at the back of his throat. His breaths are so ragged that his cheeks are red with the lack of oxygen he can inhale.

Daichi catches what’s wrong just in time to run under the net and to his side, kneeling beside him. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he frowns, patting his back so gently it feels like nothing. Suga laughs weakly through the hot tears as he chokes, and after a bit Suga sits down beside Daichi while Asahi runs to get some water for him. 

“A-All good.” he musters, closing his eyes for a bit to regain his composure. Where the hell did that come from? Was it his blood pressure telling him to stop, or did he just completely cave and it ended up like this? He chokes on another bit of bile before he swallows to keep it down. _Not in front of Daichi,_ he reminds himself, he’ll throw it up at home. 

Asahi returns with his bottle and Suga eagerly grabs it from Asahi, swallowing down a quarter of the contents. He’s also glad that his body seemingly relaxes in his presence, because having a third person means his body is less tense and he can think clearer. The trio sit around together and they stay silent while Suga recovers. It’s unspoken that the training will end for the day, judging by Suga’s pale cheeks. 

Wanting to clear the tense atmosphere, Suga sucks in a deep breath. “That...was a really hard spike, Daichi. What the hell.” he laughs, turning to Daichi and giving him a wide eyed look. 

“Yeah, that was an uncharacteristically hard hit even for you,” Asahi nudges his shoulder with a gentle hit with his fist. “You okay?” he asks, raising a brow. “Is this about something?”

Daichi shakes his head, and this one feels genuine, so Suga lets it slide. “I’m all good! Just didn’t think about controlling my strength and got too caught up with my spike. And I forgot that Suga is still building up his strength again, but I’ll remember that.”

It’s Suga’s turn to laugh this time. “Don’t worry. I’ll adapt to it overtime.”

All of them sit around and chat about the end of the school year for a bit more; talks about recruitment and the games next year if their team standard can be raised again. Then they talk about finding a potential coach, but at the end they decide it would be better to train themselves, because Miyagi is too small and finding one would be too tough with their limited connections, and no thanks to their crappy advisor.

The three of them walk home together. Asahi is dropped off first, where his mother waves goodbye to their other two after giving them each a piece of her handmade gyozas. Daichi and Suga walk home together, side by side. The stars shine in the low lighting of the roadside, and the moon hangs low over their heads. A shooting star passes. Suga wishes to live without regrets with what little time he has left alive.

“You alright?” Daichi asks, and unlike his usual commanding tone, he’s a lot more meek now and it’s nice enough to know that Daichi feels this comfortable to speak like this around him.

Suga nods in return, looking at him. He’s met with hazel, dark eyes, his face lit up by the setting sun above them. In the horizon of the orange and pink sky, an endless one like his possibilities and his worries for the short future he might have, Daichi somehow keeps him grounded. Daichi is his anchor to the ground, even if his body violently disagrees, he finds himself missing that steady constant when he’s alone. He misses it more when he’s ill.

“Thank you,” he blurts out, not by accident, and it makes Daichi stop in his tracks while they’re walking. It’s a high point of the road, on a small hill, and below them is just an endless patch of green. “For, erm...looking out for me this year. I know I’ve been difficult to work with and sometimes I just disappear, but you stayed by my side the whole time.”

Daichi huffs, stepping forward and adjusting Suga’s scarf, which makes Suga’s chest tighten way too much, but he allows himself to relax and relish in the feeling of Daichi’s concern at least for the time being. “What are you talking about?” he smiles faintly, a true genuine one which almost makes Suga want to pull him into a deep hug, “I’d do anything for you or Asahi. You have always been there for me, so the least I can do is be by your side.”

Suga gives a wet laugh.

“Besides, who’s going to give you a bite of _katsu sando_ if I’m not there?”

Both of them laugh. It’s the first time in a while that Suga begins to accept his feelings for Daichi, even if Daichi’s bright laughter is both music to his ears and poison to his body. He decides, in that very moment of standing there, their laughter filling the quiet road, that he doesn’t want the surgery, because even if he wants to live a long life, a selfish part of him wants to be in love, even if it kills him eventually. He wants to be able to be able to feel this silly heartache, one that stems from his inability to confess and the burning feeling in his throat; he can take it one day at a time. A selfish part of him wants to be able to feel. Even if he only lives for another decade, even if he dies at the end of it all.

Anything to feel something.

* * *

_Baby’s breath, soft blue cornflowers, lilacs, pink-tinted roses._

_There’s soft, romantic music playing in the halls, and he can faintly make out a figure in the distance. The carpet is white, his suit is black, and on his boutonniere is a black rose, while the figure he can make out in his haze is wearing a grey rose. As Suga approaches the other, he comes to realize it’s Daichi._

_“You look amazing,” he whispers at the altar when he approaches, but Suga is unsettled because it’s mostly empty in the hall except the both of them and the solemniser. Daichi’s smile helps him feel better, though, and he calms down, the familiar knot in his stomach untangling. Daichi always has had that effect on him, he always felt better somehow without him even doing anything._

_The wedding event begins, and for some reason, both of their wedding speeches are drowned out, unheard, and Suga can’t hear anything about it. It’s muffled, but he just figures that it’s just nerves that he can’t ease from his mind. He listens to the solemniser carefully, both of their hands in each others’, and the ring bearer brings them their rings, an unrecognizable face that Suga doesn’t recall ever meeting. Daichi slips the ring onto Suga’s finger, and Suga returns the motion. The ring is a simple sterling silver, their initials carved on the underside, and the frame splits into two coils that intertwine before it meets in the middle, in the middle of it a flower piece that holds a small diamond._

Suga barely says the three words before he shoots awake, eyes wide, choking, and running to the bathroom to throw up all the flowers in the bathroom bin (he doesn’t have the energy to clear out the toilet again) that he’s been holding back. He hurls, crying and sobbing, unable to hold back the tears that are hot and too fresh for his liking. At least his stomach is relaxed, but he feels dizzy and he can’t cope with how ridiculous that dream made him feel.

For what felt like a split second of bliss and wanting to feel like he had his life in some form of normalcy of getting married to his best friend, Suga realizes one thing: hoping that Daichi would return his feelings was beyond him and whatever the galaxy had for him. Yes, they respected each other and they were practically attached at the hip, but Daichi would never return his love the way Suga felt for him. And maybe, just maybe, Suga was quite happy about that, because he’s not sure if he wants Daichi to be dragged into this mess. 

He doesn’t understand why he dreamt about a wedding with Daichi. As far as he was concerned, he was too young for that kind of thought, and he isn’t anywhere remotely ready to be tied down. But as he washes his mouth out and stares at himself in the mirror, he allows himself to think about all the bliss they would have after being married - both of them would come home from work, they’ll cuddle, talk about their day. Suga has fantasized about Daichi being a wonderful kisser, one that’s so gentle and so genuine that he melts into his hands like putty. It’s stupid, but a boy’s allowed to dream, _even if for just a bit._ His chest tightens, but he does his best to ignore it as he turns out the light and climbs into bed again.

At the back of his mind, he thinks about everything, as he lays awake for another restless hour while staring at his ceiling. His parents have been accommodating to him - when they found out about his decision to not go for the surgery the year before, they sat him down together with the therapist to make sure it wasn’t some overthinking on his part. Suga is aware of the consequence, knows he doesn’t have much time left. He’s accepted his fate, mostly, even if it scares him to think that he’ll be the first to go, long even before his parents who are both healthy. But at least they’ll be able to save on his medical expenses, spare the chance of a possible relapse, and Suga can continue living without the possibility of emotional therapy just to help him feel again from his empty vessel.

He thinks about his mother, who encouraged him to confess, too, but Suga doesn’t wish to. Ruining their friendship, even if their strong bond says otherwise, is something he doesn’t want to do. He’s all good watching Daichi do his own thing and giving him love advice. He knows that Daichi might have feelings for someone else, be it as of current or in the future, but as long as Suga can continue watching him from afar, Suga thinks he’s happy enough to just be able to breathe and live for the next decade, or as long as his fate will allow.

_He falls asleep with tears on his cheeks at the thought of Daichi loving someone else that isn’t him, and he’s not sure why he does._

* * *

First and second year high school pass a little too quickly for his liking. That means senior year is rapidly approaching, and he has to start growing up if he wants to learn to cope with his impending death in just, perhaps, five years from now. 

Suga begins to mature more than anyone else, even if he was mature already by the time they were in first year high school. He rises up to being vice-captain, deals with their loss to Dateko, comforts almost everyone else on the team. He coaxes Nishinoya to stay, because their team needs their best libero, but it was futile. He talks through to Asahi, but the glass-hearted giant eventually walks away from playing when Nishinoya’s stares become too intense when he walks by the hall. They’re mostly back to square one with a few of the second years after the two of them leave. He wishes things could be different, but like his feelings for Daichi, he knows it's not that simple.

One evening after training, Suga is alone as he walks to the club room after complaining of a tight chest, when he feels his throat constrict too much at the feeling of flowers rising up, and he makes an attempt to keep it down. Everyone on the team has had low morales for the whole month since they lost to Dateko the term before, and he doesn’t need to fall ill now to make it worse. But it becomes too much to think about, and he runs out of the club room and charges for the bathroom.

Tanaka notices, following along. 

In short, that evening was how Tanaka found out, and was the first person to know about Suga’s medical condition.

Suga is hunched over the bathroom, a common occurrence now, and in the toilet bowl it’s filled with the flowers he’s used to seeing; the white ones turn transparent, the red and black ones standing out amongst the bunch. At the bottom sits a bit of blood; has been that way ever since mid second year. The medicine dose has only gotten stronger, and Suga has been trying to cope with the feeling, but his anxiety is through the roof and his emotions are a mess, leading to whatever this reaction was. He hated feeling like this, and now that Tanaka has found him, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he sighs and gets to his feet, wiping his mouth with a piece of paper towel. When Tanaka tries to protest, he clasps his hand over his mouth. He was way too loud for his own good sometimes. “I can’t have anyone finding out. _Please,_ do it for me.” he pleads quietly, eyes desperate, and Tanaka only nods, too afraid to disrespect his vice-captain.

_He hates using position honorifics on his teammates sometimes._

“You….you wanna talk about it?” Tanaka quietly offers. It’s a rare time that Tanaka is actually like this, Suga realizes, but silently he appreciates it, because it shows him a different side of the sophomore and he wonders what the club will be like in the hands of the loud, noisy second years. Tanaka could lead with a chaotic personality. But his thoughts are redirected to the foul bile at the back of his throat and the tightness in his chest, and he spits it out. Tanaka merely grimaces.

Suga laughs it off, and while Tanaka stands there, he shrugs it off like no big deal, like Suga hadn’t just thrown up a whole bouquet worth of flowers. “It’s just a small issue, don’t think too much about it.”

“Small issue? Sugawara-”

“ _Suga._ Just call me that. And I promise, I’ll be fine.” he reassures, spitting out the contents in his mouth to clear the taste. “I know you’re worried by what you saw, but I’ve seen worse myself and as much as I wish to not be going through this, I’m used to it.”

It’s Tanaka’s turn to grimace as he leans against the bathroom stall wall. He thinks of something to say before he looks at Suga again, his eyes careful with the string he threads on. Suga truly doesn’t mind what he asks. Tanaka can be straightforward, but if anything, Suga appreciates it sometimes compared to the sugar coating his parents tend to give. 

“How long has this been going on?”

“Two years.” he answers without hesitation.

Tanaka nods, crossing his arms and heaving a long sigh. “That’s a long time.”

“Uh huh.” Suga wipes his mouth, tossing the tissue out. He stares at the bin of flowers, frowning as he takes the trash bag out and ties it up. 

Tanaka offers a hand with the bag. “Who’s the lucky person?” he asks directly as they walk to the waste centre, just behind the bathrooms.

Suga considers going around the bush for this question, but goes against it. “Daichi.” 

Tanaka sucks in a breath and a quiet _oh._ He stays silent after. It takes a bit before anyone says anything again. “I won’t tell him.” he draws an x mark over his heart, giving a faint smile of his own. “Your secret is safe with me, for however long you need it. If you need to, you can call me. I’m free to talk anytime.”

Suga smiles appreciatively, rubbing his hand to Tanaka’s bald head, laughing at the scratchy feeling in his palms. For what it’s worth, with all the loudness and chaotic energy that Tanaka can keep in that body of his, he’s also someone to trust with a secret, and Suga likes that; he feels safe keeping his darkest secret with Tanaka.

“Thank you.”

* * *

The new first years are...quite a handful, honestly. 

Between the quieter ones and those who are constantly at each others’ throat, Suga is happy for one thing - all of them, if for the exception of Tsukishima, are all highly motivated in their drive to win the prefecture regionals. It drives the seniors’ morales up, too, and he’s sure he can see the fire in Daichi’s eyes reignite, and with the fact that Asahi and Nishinoya are back after clearing their misunderstanding up, the team’s foundation is even stronger than ever before.

On one of the evenings, as they’re packing up, Kageyama approaches him. It’s not uncommon for him to want to talk to Suga, especially after Suga started training Kageyama off the court, so he just sits down on the edge of the stage and swings his legs over as they watch the rest of the team clean up. Both of them are silent, which Suga squints, wondering what this is about because Kageyama would have at least asked him something by now if it was setter related matters.

 _“How do you know you like someone?”_

Suga chokes on the bile that’s sitting at the back of his throat. He scrunches his nose and looks at the younger teammate, who’s still looking at the rest of the court.

“And why do you ask?” he questions, eyes looking suspiciously at him.

“Just….Just asking!” Kageyama defensively retorts, but the very faint blush that rises to his cheeks gives it all away. The boy _is, in fact, in love._

Suga tries to think about the question, while ignoring the warm feeling in his stomach that intensifies when he thinks about Daichi, as well as the feeling of his chest constricting. “Erm...I guess there’s different ways everyone will know. Some will grow to be more affectionate, some may be a little more aggressive, and some may show it by doing the little things.” _The last one’s a little subjective,_ he considers, _Daichi often does things for him and Suga is still a hundred percent sure Daichi doesn’t feel anything._

“Sometimes I want to just keep being his partner, be it on the court and off the court, does that count?” he hears Kageyama ask, and Suga feels himself laughing softly as he tucks his knees close to his chest.

“That’s...that’s a good start.” he agrees softly with his fellow setter. “I’m not the most qualified for this, really. I’m not sure why you’re asking me of all people.” 

Kageyama frowns this time. “Well, it’s just that...you tend to have _that_ look when you look at Daichi sometimes.” he mutters under his breath. Suga blinks. Was it that obvious to tell?

“We’re just best friends.” Suga corrects him quickly, trying not to feel anxious over the words Kageyama has just put out in front of them. The younger doesn’t seem impressed.

“Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“And aren’t you supposed to be the inexperienced one?” he pretends to shove the boy, and he thinks he sees the ghost of a laugh from him. 

Kageyama quietens, and glances back at Suga. “Well, I’m just going off what you said.”

He contemplates telling the younger. He trusts the younger a lot, and even if they’re two years apart and their maturities are worlds beyond each other, Suga feels an odd want to guide him and protect him as much as he can, at least for a while. And if Kageyama was telling him his side of his problems so openly, who’s he to doubt their friendship?

“Come on,” he gestures to the exit as he gets to his feet after hopping off the stage. “I want to talk to you about something.”

When they reach the locker room, Suga opens his own locker and pulls on a hoodie. “Can you help me keep a secret? I just want to be more comfortable with you, and since you asked me about relationships, I guess it’s better late than never.”

Kageyama nods quietly, standing beside him. Suga takes a deep breath.

“For a while now I’ve been diagnosed with _Hanahaki.”_ he starts shakily, but when Kageyama doesn’t say anything, nor does he seem to judge, Suga continues. “It’s been tough, coming to terms with it, knowing I’ll only have about another five over years, but I’ve gradually learnt how to cope.”

He can see the cogs in Kageyama’s mind turning. _“Hanahaki_ is a really rare disease, right?” he asks softly, and when Suga nods, he asks again, “What flowers come up?”

Suga doesn’t have to think to remember. “Red and black roses, and _diphylleia grayi.”_

Kageyama seems confused, and Suga knows why.

“ _Diphylleia grayi_ is incredibly rare. They look like white flowers, but they turn transparent in water or any liquid.” Suga explains, and Kageyama hums in nodding at the knowledge. “The only reason why I’m telling you is that if anything, I trust you probably the most among the team.”

He reaches for his bag, and packs all his stuff in, including his pill box that he uses to remind him to take his medicine. Kageyama eyes it for a split second. “You’re strong, going through all of this without anyone else knowing.” his voice resonates in Suga’s mind.

Suga laughs weakly with a deep sigh. “Only you and Tanaka. And if it means things can keep itself in a balance without Daichi knowing, I’m more than okay with holding it back.” he gives a tiny smile, something mixed between being scared and being at peace with his resolution.

Kageyama merely hums. “People really would do anything for love.”

“That’s what I said to myself before all this happened.” he bites on his bottom lip, trying to think of what to say as he finishes packing, then turning to look at Kageyama with semi-formed hot tears at the corners of his eyes that he tries to hold back, smiling through them. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell this person you like, but at some point, I guess you’ve got to come to terms with it and admit it out. And even if it means rejection, it’s probably better than dying like me. Nothing could be worse than going to the grave with the secret.” he laughs at his own morbid joke, and it’s only but a small indicator of how far he’s come with accepting his fate. It’s horrible, living like this in a limbo of constantly worsening and trying to remain positive, but he tries. He really does. Even if it means crying himself to sleep.

“I’ll...I’ll keep it in mind.” he nods, before someone throws the club room door open and startles the two of them. Tanaka is laughing at something Hinata has just said out loud, and the team followed behind. Suga gestured to Kageyama to keep their promise, and the latter nods while the rest of the team packs up.

As all of them walk home, eating the warm meat buns that Tanaka has treated them all to because Hinata had willingly called him _senpai,_ of all things, Suga feels like a small bit of weight has been taken off his shoulders as he thinks about Daichi and the dreams he’s had. Maybe admitting and telling someone did help him feel slightly better.

_Still, the tight chest and warm churning sensation doesn’t leave, but Suga is too used to it._

* * *

Suga thinks about what he said to Kageyama that evening. He feels like an absolute hypocrite to his own words.

_Admit it out? Tell the truth? Even if it means rejection?_

Suga hurls into the waste bag that he’s been holding in his hands for the last fifteen minutes. What an absolute hypocrite. Blood sits at the bottom of the bag, tinting the transparent petals into a glassy red. _Purity dirtied with lust and want,_ he thinks, wiping his mouth. He doesn’t cry anymore when he throws up. He’s used to the feeling of being sick, has accepted that this is all his life is going to be, trying to be all okay when he’s a walking, ticking time bomb.

Suga thinks about Daichi kissing him for the first time again. He wants to feel how soft his lips probably are, be his first and only forever, and wants him to hold him close for the rest of their lives will let them live. 

It’s a beautiful dream.

His chest tightens again and he throws up into the bag again.

* * *

They make it to nationals and Suga couldn’t have been more proud of the team.

After the celebrations and the excitement, the training camps and all the arguments, Coach Ukai has everyone working ten times harder during training. Spike, floor, receive, serve drills, multiple matches into however long of a training session they can make. All of them are focused on getting better with their timing, learning to delay their blocks in time to fight back, and some of them learn not to spike into each others’ heads.

Everything is going smoothly as it can be, at least the couple of days before the finals, Suga thinks as he sits on the stage with his bottle when they are allowed time out. In the last half a year, Suga’s condition has steadily stabilised, too - lesser days of feeling like death, lesser occurences of throwing up during school hours and volleyball practice, and while he still took the medications, he felt like he was slowly adapting to the intensity of the respective doses.

Everyone seemed to be adapting well, too. He gave a fond, tiny smile as he watched Daichi in the distance giving pointers to Yamaguchi about his serves, on how to make it more accurate and how to capture a spot that was weak and take advantage of it. Daichi always had the natural flair to be a captain, always did suit the role, and ever since the first years came into their lives, he’s been demonstrating his worth on the court. 

Suga was fine with being a setter on substitution. Even if that meant being sidelined, and as much as he wanted to play at first, he soon came to realize that if they wanted to win, the better option was always preferred. And not to mention, between the three of them that knew, it was obvious that perhaps it was better that Suga was off the court and only up to help them gain a few points every now and then. Suga’s blood pressure was getting better, but sometimes dizzy spells still hit and he learnt his lesson during training one time.

He continues to drink from his bottle when Tanaka takes a seat beside him, crossing his legs and turning to him. Suga is sure he knows where this topic is going, because if it is, this wouldn’t be the first time. “Are you ever going to plan to tell him?”

Suga sighs - as much as Tanaka cared, sometimes asking too much was exhausting to think about. He looked at Daichi from the back, his number one on the jersey proud and rigid as he worked with the younger pinch server. He shakes his head, earning yet another puzzled look from Tanaka.

“You know high school doesn’t last forever, right?” the bald-head boy reminded. 

Suga gave a small nod and nothing else. It was hard thinking about it, a difficult topic to swallow, but he knows better than to ruin a potential friendship that was built so heavily on trust. Their friendship was already so fragile, so precious, that it felt like one wrong move would just spiral the whole thing into a mess he would have to clean up.

He felt better watching Daichi from afar, anyway. 

“Do you know how long more you have?” Tanaka asks the million dollar question that even Suga doesn’t want to think about, and Suga contemplates. He doesn’t truly know, between his diagnosis and his steadily worsening condition (he started coughing up more blood recently), he has no clear indication, much like the doctors.

Suga gave him another bleak, sad smile. “When I die, I die.”

Tanaka hums under his breath, seemingly upset. This side of Tanaka was rare, but it usually put him in some kind of funk Suga hated seeing especially if it happens after their talk or if Suga just charges for the bathroom out of nowhere. “Do you ever feel ready for it?”

“For _death?”_ Suga asks softly, careful to not be too loud, and Tanaka nods silently. Suga contemplates before giving an answer he feels at least somewhat comfortable with. “Like I said, when it happens cannot be decided by me. So let’s hope that by that time, I’m content with where I am, and what I did. Then when I’m gone, at least I’ll have no regrets.”

Tanaka purses his lips. “You would though.”

Suga shrugged. “More unrequited feelings than a regret, but yeah, I guess that’s one on the long list of the things I’ll never be able to admit.” 

_Well, this conversation took a really morbid turn,_ he tells himself before hopping off the stage to get back to practice.

It’s all in full swing, half of the team on each side. As usual Daichi is in front on the same side by the net while Suga prepares to serve. He can’t decide which side to serve - serving to Nishinoya could be a pretty easy way to fall into their trap, but then serving to Yamaguchi’s side would be just plain bullying to the poor server.

Ugh.

He bounces the ball to test it out, then throws the ball up for a serve. The second his hand comes in contact with the ball and the loud sound rings in his ears, he moves into position, ready to receive anytime. The ball comes back to them, and he receives in time to pass it onto Kageyama. “Nice receive!” he hears Daichi call out, before another hard thump hits the floor. Daichi had somehow managed a feint shot above Tsukishima, and Nishinoya could barely catch up to make sure the ball didn’t hit the ground.

The games follow that rhythm slowly, with occasional pointers. By each round and point Suga feels himself get exhausted, drained to the bone, but he pushes himself more with each point, too. He knows he should stop, because he feels slightly dizzy, but it’s the final point on the board before the team wins, and he’s at the front of the net, so a good toss right now would be beneficial. 

_Damn it, why were his fingers so cold?_ He shakes his wrists, getting the ache out, and focuses on the ball. Everything is all good, until the ball reaches him from Daichi and he jumps a little too high, tilting his head too hard that his head spins, and even if he makes the hit and Hinata makes a perfect spike out of nowhere, Suga finds himself off balance as he falls onto his knees, heaving heavily.

 _Fuck,_ he cussed silently under his breath as he tried to gather himself, closing his eyes to regulate the tightness in his chest and the feeling of bitter bile rising in his throat. He almost gags, making Daichi move closer to coax him, but Suga knows what’s coming all too well and shoves Daichi out of the way with his elbow. _“Don’t touch me!”_ he yelled, trying to stumble to his feet but failing while listening to the protests of everyone else. He could barely register any other word, his head spinning, his breathing triggering his anxious thoughts of everyone finding out. He couldn’t breathe, _fuck,_ where was he even? Everything was a blur, spinning, like someone had thrown a flash grenade in his face, right in his eyes. He could distinctively make out Kageyama and Tanaka in front of him, trying to help him, but he shakes his head, trying to tell them to back off before it was too late to do so.

The warm feeling in his stomach is the only warning he gets, before he throws up heavily on the floor, smack centre of the court, and he assumes Hitoka is the one yelling in horror.

As he realized soon what had happened as he heaved more on the court, trying to regain his breath, his spit coming out of his mouth and blood in his hands, everyone soon saw the secret Suga has been desperately trying to hide all his life since diagnosis. The low blood pressure is enough to almost knock him out, just inches from laying in his own bodily waste.

The last thing he hears is Daichi screaming for someone to call for an ambulance, as well as the rapid footsteps from Kiyoko to get Takeda-sensei. He then noticed the flower variety that he had thrown up on the court - the same white flowers with yellow cores that turned transparent in liquid, the red and black roses. How tragic, all of it laying in his own blood, because he’s sure that they’ll make a perfect bouquet.

_Dying now seemed like a good idea._

* * *

_Vulnerable, exhausted, lethargic, weak._

Suga can barely see anything when his eyes open, and he can’t hear much other than muffled noises. He can, however, recognize the voices of his doctors, his parents, Coach Ukai, and Takeda-sensei. He tries to roll onto his side, to which his mother notices, and she helps him ease into waking up. He’s also aware of the tube going into his nose, a nasal prong, and his IV drips going through the back of his hand. _Ah, lovely, same damn thing, new day._

“Koshi, it’s me,” she whispers as she touches his face with her palms, and he weakly nods, coughing slightly as he gestures to the water flask by the side of his table. She helps him and he takes a sip, quelling the scratchy sensation at the back of his throat.

He doesn’t manage to keep the liquids down for long though, because he can feel it shoot back up and he instinctively cups his mouth before leaning over into the bag that’s been placed by his bedside. In recent years, the hospital has begun to better prepare themselves with the off chance that another Hanahaki patient enters their doors again, setting up standard procedures such as a pack of trash bags and priority hospitalisation if they were mid to end stage cases. For Suga, he was considered a mid stage case.

When he was done throwing up, his mother gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead, much to his exasperation, because this made him feel like a kid and not like he was eighteen. He coughed more, into a tissue, letting the mild amounts of blood soak through, and a _diphylleia grayi_ sat amongst it. As he takes the flower in his own hand, free of his blood, he observes it up close. Soon he realizes he’s crying, because the first tears he’s cried in a long time drips onto the flowers and the petals of the flowers turn transparent. He watches it happen, observes the way the petals show its veins and its true nature.

 _Fragility in beauty._

He takes another shaky breath, placing the flower on the blanket. He pushes the heel of his palms to his eyes, and he breaks into uncontrollable sobs. For the first time since he’s learnt to cope, he feels truly lost, unable to accept himself and his body, sick, dying, and so lethargic. He just wants to be okay again, at least for a few seconds, without choking up something or remembering his impending death.

* * *

When he finally calms and his mother can gauge that he’s doing better mentally, she lets go of him and looks him in the eye, nodding silently. He’s looking better after he let it all out, but he definitely still feels like crap. 

“Mom and dad have to attend to sudden matters,” he hears his father say, and Suga glances at them both, nodding in understanding. “We’ll ask your teacher or someone from school to bring you home if they let you out tomorrow, but judging by what they said, they might want to keep you for the next two days, so we should be able to be back in time.”

Suga doesn’t want to be alone, but he understands. That doesn’t stop that childish pout that forms on his lips, almost like a toddler asking for ice cream, and he feels his lips curl into a sad smile. “Okay.” he says under his breath, “Don’t worry about me.”

His father reaches to ruffle his silvery locks, and on this very seemingly rare occasion, gives a small hug and a kiss to the crown of his head. "We'll always worry about you, Koshi." He can hear faint sniffles, but he pretends not to hear it just so they can both keep their prides.

Even if the doctor doesn’t tell him that night, he knows what had been spoken and the common knowledge between him and his family - Suga was getting worse and it was only a matter of time before he would have to step out. At least his high school volleyball career was almost done, he could leave in peace knowing the team was in good hands, and their last match will definitely be a win for all of them. He planned to at least play a few points before he could no longer hold up and get substituted back out.

His eyes follow the room walls to the door, where Tanaka and Kageyama were.

Suga sighs, asking his parents to excuse him so he can talk to the younger two. When the room doors close, he lets out the breath he has been holding subconsciously.

Tanaka is the first to speak. “What happened?” he sits beside Suga, eyes soft with worry for the setter. Kageyama’s eyes seemed to ask the same question, midnight blue orbs focused on the topic, which made him sigh.

“Along with...being sick, comes multiple other things. Like coping with the anxiety, depression from the medication, and the low blood pressure from all that energy it takes for me to do something while sick.” he explains, avoiding eye contact as he tried to pull his loose sleeves over his palms just so that his fingertips were sticking out. “I did take my medicine, yes. But these few weeks have been long and I didn’t want to stop how hard all of us were working. Before I knew it I lost my composure on that last set to Hinata and my body just gave in.”

He thinks again, his brain sluggish from the slight amount of morphine they had given him to ease the ache in his muscles (he had asked for some after he mentioned difficulty breathing, and they obliged in lieu of being unable to take anymore muscle relaxants).

He’s almost afraid to ask, but he _needs_ the answers. “Is Daichi okay?” 

Both of them look at each other. “He’s...He’s holding up, but barely.” Kageyama is the one who answers, even as quiet as he appears, playing at his fingertips. “The ones who are sobbing still are Hinata and Hitoka-chan.”

He felt bad, traumatising everyone, especially Hitoka. Poor girl was innocent, so wide eyed when she first appeared for the try outs, could barely keep up sometimes, and now he’s not sure if Hitoka can cope with knowing that a friend was horribly ill.

“Hinata let me hug him and comfort him, if that’s...if that’s something. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” he tells Suga, and for a split second Suga gives a dumbfounded laugh, because even in such situations, Kageyama can still be funny even if unintentional.

Suga reaches out to his right and ruffles Kageyama’s hair, and he doesn’t flinch, somewhat comfortable with it. “At least he has you.” Suga remarks under his breath, then turning to Tanaka and doing the same to his head. “Come on, cheer up. Don’t look so upset. It’s not like I’m dying.” he tries to smile, trying his damn best, because what’s the team without its senior to motivate them and push them forward? “Promise me you’ll go home and get some rest. Take tomorrow off and sleep in. It’s Sunday after all, you both have been working hard on your drills.” he looks at them both, giving a proud smile. He trusts that these two will be able to lead the team when he’s gone.

When the both of them agree and leave the room, he leans back in the reclined bed and closes his eyes, then pulling his legs up and adjusting the tubes going into his nose for his oxygen intake. His hands fall on the flower again, and he takes it in his hand, looking at it with careful eyes. 

He doesn’t realize how late it is, about eleven thirty, nor does he notice the figure standing in the doorway. Suga glances up, only to notice the person he’d been hoping to avoid tonight.

He swallows thickly at the bile that forms at the back of his throat, resisting all urge.

“Suga?” Daichi asks, eyes focused on his as he approaches the bedside, and sits down. “I...Your parents needed someone to take care of you while they were away briefly to settle their work related things, and I felt partially responsible as the captain to watch after you at least for tonight.” he explains, blinking a few times before he turns to look at him again. 

“H-How...How long have you been going through this?” he finally asks the question. Suga’s breath hitches in his lungs, painful to breathe even with the morphine; he’s not sure if he can stand to look at the sadness in Daichi’s eyes at knowing his best friend had been this horribly ill the whole time.

Suga decides it’s best not to sugarcoat and hide it anymore. “Since first year high school.” he comes clean, “Do you remember the day that I didn’t come to school because I was in the hospital for passing out?”

Daichi nods, listening attentively.

“I hadn’t been doing well for the whole week leading up to that. I was running a fever, my chest was tight, my stomach was churning, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe right.” he avoids looking at Daichi in favour of the flower in his palm, coughing just slightly. “Among the one hundred things on the list that I was diagnosed with, mainly low blood pressure and a tendency to overexert beyond my limit, the doctors diagnosed me with _Hanahaki._ My parents found me collapsed in my bathroom that morning. I was lucky to have at least survived that.”

Daichi doesn’t seem angry, just seems upset, and in somewhat of a denial, Suga notices, and it makes his heart ache more than he wants it too, really. The bile is beginning to taste foul again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks quietly after a long silence. “Were you ever going to?”

Suga had a plan. It just _never_ involved Daichi finding out.

He can only bring himself to answer the first question.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry. And everyone else was giving a hundred percent to it. If I just said it then everyone would pity me and it’ll make the morale dip. Someone has to look out for these kids. And it can’t be you alone.” 

“And how did you think I would react to it?”

“I didn’t think it would get _this_ bad, either.”

Daichi looks almost half shocked when Suga says that, and instantly he regrets it, because the anger that seems to flash in his eyes seems to become intertwined with fear. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he repeats his second question, and Suga can feel the hot tears on his cheeks streaming down.

Suga lets out a barely audible, _“No.”_

Both of them are silent for a long time, after. No words spoken, other than the silent shuffling of his legs under the blanket, and the quiet coughs he lets out into a tissue, a small amount of blood and a few more tiny flowers to add to his collection on his bed. Daichi seems to take some interest in it after a bit of just sitting around, even though Suga could tell he was still angry.

“What flower is it?”

Suga’s lips curl just slightly, taking one in his palm and dabbing his finger into his drinking cup, then letting a drop of water hit the petals. It turned transparent almost immediately, and the veins showed. _“Diphylleia grayi.”_ he whispers, “Incredibly rare to find. I’m not sure what it means, but the white means purity and innocence, and I guess turning transparent indicates the fragile nature of the love I have for this person.”

Daichi gives a quiet hum. “It’s poetic.”

“It is. And tragic.” Suga agrees, letting the flower fall from his palm. 

The other boy seems to be unable to find his words, at least not for a bit, before he glances to Suga again. Both Daichi and Suga understood what lay ahead: the limited span of Suga’s existence beyond this point on; how long more Suga had to live before his body just gave in.

“What do you plan to do?” Daichi asks.

Suga doesn’t really want to answer this, so he just shrugs. Avoiding seems better now. Sometimes he’s allowed to hold back his secrets, and he's better at it.

Daichi understands, getting to his feet and having some intention to leave the room for a bit, probably to breathe. He’s still in his long pants and long sleeved training shirt, and right now the man in front of him looks so small, _helpless,_ shoulders slouched. Like the role of captain has just left him, and in that moment he sees the tears forming in Daichi’s eyes, glassy and red. Daichi is about to walk out, and suddenly Suga is not sure why either, but he grabs Daichi’s wrist on instinct and tugs him back. He feels just as helpless and vulnerable, too, stuck with all these tubes, not wanting this to be the way Daichi remembered him, sick and weak.

He _had_ to try, right?

“Suga?” he hears him call, and Suga’s eyes fill with tears of his own, too. 

_“Stay, please.”_ he pleads weakly, cheeks red and his eyes soft, his back slouched. This is perhaps the most open Suga has been, a clear cut vulnerability that only his parents have seen. Not even Tanaka or Kageyama when they talked about this on random occasions, this is very much a first for Daichi to see. 

Suga’s almost on his knees as he tries to tug Daichi back, and when Daichi finally lets himself turn back around, Suga moves forward, closes his eyes, and hugs the other close. It’s a comfortable position, save for the multiple tubes in his body. Suga buries his face into Daichi’s chest to steady his breathing, trying not to set off a chain reaction of panic attacks that he really didn’t want to deal with at the moment. Daichi stones for the split second, but after realizing their positions, he doesn’t pull away, and instead, hugs his waist, one hand rubbing his back in smooth, comforting circles, making Suga feel like he has finally found his home, even if he hadn’t admitted, even if it isn't mutual.

More tears sting his eyes as he stays still, just hugging Daichi, face buried so he can hide the sobs that are shaking his vulnerable frame. He adjusts to rest his head on Daichi’s shoulder when the other sits down in the chair, and he closes his eyes.

He feels more confident to finally come clean, and he does, even if he chokes on his words. “For a long time it took me a lot of effort to understand why it happened to me, of all people, and it took a lot of time to decide what my life was going to be for the next decade.” he whispers, eyes still closed as he feels the comfortable hand Daichi has placed on his neck, squeezing gently at the temples to soothe him. 

“I realized one day, when I was walking home with this person. There were a couple of options, one of the major ones being surgery. As much as I wanted to do it, to live the rest of my life in peace, one thing stopped me from agreeing.” he pauses to breathe, pulling away so he could think. Daichi’s eyes were focused on him, encouraging him to continue. Suga smiles gratefully, and nods. “I didn’t want to take the surgery because I wanted to be able to keep feeling. Doing the surgery would remove my ability to love again, or feel anything remotely close.”

He sees the way Daichi shifts uncomfortably, and offers his hand to Daichi for him to hold, which Daichi accepts, running his thumb to the back of Suga’s hand. “Is this person worth the suffering?” he asks now, voice small.

“I would do it all over _again_ to experience this love even if it means crying at four in the morning and choking on all the flowers.”

Both of their hands remained intertwined, fitting too perfectly. He looks up at Daichi while the other has his attention on a scar on Suga’s hand, and his lips are inches away from his forehead. He thinks about holding back, but in a moment of being rash and not wanting to miss the chance to feel at least something good, he brushes his fingers through Daichi’s hair, pushes back any bits that’s blocking his forehead, and leans in to press his lips to Daichi’s forehead, gently, so soft like it’s almost nothing.

The boy tenses up, eyes glancing up, soft and quiet. Neither of them say anything nor do they acknowledge the kiss, but Suga is so busy looking Daichi so closely in the eyes; his eyes are a rich brown that looks like it’s holding the weight of the world, so careful like it could rock the foundations and create a wave so huge and destroy worlds with it.

He thinks about the analogy - Daichi has always changed his foundations, made him realize his growth as he falls in love more, has always been a strong pillar like how he held the world in his eyes. And it all makes sense; Daichi's name literally means _great land;_ Suga has always craved for someone strong and yet as emotionally vulnerable like Daichi. Even if this is his first and last love, he knows that Daichi is perfect, because his hands are so soft, even though he uses the same hands to spike and serve. He adores the curves and dips on his face, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek to gauge the reaction.

Daichi doesn’t flinch. His face feels warm in a comforting manner.

Suga’s shaky fingertips, accompanied by the IV drip inserted, traces over his jaw, eyes, lashes, down to his cheekbones and his cupid’s bow, and all the way to his chin. _He’s perfect,_ Suga thinks now that he gets to see him up close in this lighting, sculpted so perfectly to match his personality. _Whoever he loves will be lucky to have him. I’ll be able to let him go knowing that well, with no regrets because they’ll receive all the love from him that I couldn’t give. He’ll treat them like the prettiest rose, delicate and sweet. Tender._

Suga is almost jealous, but he doesn’t say it. 

“Whoever loves you will be lucky.” Suga quietly mutters as his fingers leaves Daichi's cheek, then leaning in to kiss his forehead again, wanting to enjoy this sacred moment between them both, even if Daichi didn’t feel the same way. He could accept it.

“Who’s the lucky person of your love that I’ll have to talk to about this?” Daichi tries to laugh to lighten the mood, faces inches away from each other in the dim light, still not really realizing it. Suga lets out a soft, wet laugh, combined with a sob that he’s been holding back.

With all he can manage, he lets the truth unfold. _“Daichi Sawamura.”_

Time seems to completely stop in that split second slither of time, as Daichi finally realizes every word Suga has just said. _There it is._ Their eyes meet, but no words are spoken as they spend that moment looking at each other. It’s hard to tell what’s going on inside Daichi’s mind at that point in time, but at the same time, his heart soothes at the fact that he’s finally come clean with his secret.

“I know it’s...not what you expected to hear.” Suga releases his grip from the other after a while, even if he wants to continue, “But from the very beginning, you’ve been by my side, guiding me, helping me. When everyone left, you were all I had left to hold onto.” he inched back and sat cross legged in the bed, biting on his lip so hard it felt like he was drawing blood. “Slowly as everything built itself up again, I was just happy to watch you take charge and be all out in the court. And I was happy to give my position to Kageyama too if that meant winning. Nothing has meant more to me than seeing you be happy out there. And that’s why I didn’t tell you.” 

Daichi is silent, too silent. He’d usually have something to say in between, or at least his opinions, but his jaw isn’t even dropped, nor is he surprised, if that’s the case. Sometimes, even if they’re inseparable, there are things that Suga can’t tell, too.

And one of them is why Daichi was now touching his cheek the same way he had done for him earlier, his fingertips gentle like a feather, and his breath shaky. Suga feels the heat of his fingertips, the way their bodies move in sync. When Daichi pulls his hand back to think about what he’s done, Suga’s body instinctively follows and chases after, not thinking before he moves, and letting himself relish in the touch on his cheek, a deep breath as he closes his eyes.

“You don’t have to try and return my feelings.” he mumbles after a bit, “It’s completely fine if you want someone el-”

 _“I want you, too.”_

His eyes fly open at the words Daichi had just spoken, the flipping sensation in his stomach intensifying, but he no longer feels the urge to choke, nor the foul bile in his mouth. Instead his heart races, his body goes into overdrive, and he pulls Daichi closer. Their faces are so close, their eyes meet for once, and it feels genuine, after all that tension and the circling they’ve been doing around each other. All Suga can seem to focus on is how warm Daichi’s presence is, how inviting it is to be in his intimate space, and he leans in just carefully enough, head tilted to meet Daichi halfway.

 _It feels like heaven. He feels alive._

For a first kiss, Suga isn’t sure what to expect, really, but it feels so good to finally know that the person he’s been in love with since the first year, his best friend, feels the same, too. The kiss ends just shortly after they meet, but the contact doesn’t end; Daichi presses his forehead to Suga’s and takes a sharp breath. He relaxes, and after regaining himself, he moves closer in his chair and lets himself be hugged by Suga. 

The grey-haired teen merely laughed softly, his body adjusting to the positive outcome as he moves closer too, mindful of the wires, and placed his chin on Daichi’s head, arms around his neck to hold him close. The sound of Daichi’s steady breathing is enough to steady his own, too, and soon his muscles don’t feel as tense (even if he’s on morphine). Suga runs a free hand through Daichi’s hair, kissing at his scalp every chance he can to shower affection. This felt like a long time coming, something he has wanted for so long, and he doesn’t have to dream of death anymore. 

_Anything to feel something. Fragility in beauty._

_It’s beautiful._ For once, he lets himself be free to love.

* * *

“Nice serve, Suga!” he hears the call, and he runs into position, ready for the returns that follow, eyes on the ball the whole time. Nishinoya was beside him, ready to receive anytime, too, prepared for the best option. With the two of them at the back at the top of their game, he’s sure they can do anything. 

The ball comes flying, and he lets Nishinoya take the ball. “Nice receive!” he shouts, watching the ball fly to the front. In a split second he sees the orange-haired teen cross the court; Suga tosses just high enough, and Hinata spikes the ball down, and the ball crosses the court successfully, right into an empty spot. “Nice kill!”

_“Fire up, fire up, Karasuno!”_

_“One more, Suga!”_ he hears the deep voice from the front, meeting Daichi’s eyes, and he gives a soft grunt. It’s the last point. If he wins this, then they win nationals. He’s got to make this one count. His opponents are fired up, just as much as the rest of them are, and he feels the energy, too. With a steady breath, he tosses the ball up, watches it fall, and sends it flying with a sharp slap to the ball.

He can see the way the ball dances around the court, now - his opponents receive, a set, and then to the middle it flies, but then he notices, right before the set, that the opponent’s second wing spiker is in full motion, too. 

“Decoy!” he shouts at the realization, changing his direction of defence with instinct together with Tsukishima, and they intervene just in time for a one touch. 

“One touch!” he calls out, hearing the ball smack Nishinoya’s arm right after and flying back up in motion. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit short!”

“I got this!” Tanaka took cover, and sent the ball from where it came from. 

Their form this round has been spectacular. When Coach Ukai had opted to get the pinch server in to assist for an extra advantage, Takeda-sensei had been wary. With his hospitalization just a mere days ago and his condition fluctuating to accommodate with the positive outcome of his confession _(well, uh. It was a really awkward conversation to have about why Suga had hanahaki in the first place and who the other person was, but they managed it without wanting to die inside, miraculously),_ they were concerned about the idea of putting Suga back on the court where a potential emergency could happen again.

But Daichi, of all people, was all for it, stating a new source of energy was needed on the court, and if anyone could do it, it was Suga.

 _So here he was._

His eyes are still focused on the ball. 

Just before he started playing with the rest of them after being substituted in, Suga had given Hinata a game plan. In his mind, he thought of using the decoy right now, but it would prove stupid if they tried to use Hinata once again to fool the rest. 

He senses that Hinata is already running faster than he can think. Giving him a spike now would prove too dangerous, but even Hinata knew this himself, they can both see the defenders getting ready for a triple block. The only way was to use Asahi in a pipe attack to fight back. 

“Asahi!” he shouts, and his fellow upperclassman acknowledges it, running up behind Hinata. _Now or never._ He watches the ball fall from where Nishinoya had received it from the side, sets it high because he knows it’s Asahi’s favourite kind, and watches the other work his magic with a breath held back. Hinata fakes his jump. Asahi follows up with a hard hit in perfect form.

_The ball smashes down with a loud slap that’s a little too close to the boundaries for his liking. Suga watches eagerly, on the balls of his feet, and awaits the jury._

_The jury’s flag stays down. Suga's breath releases._

_They won._

_They actually won. 27-25._

The team is in a mix of shock, surprise, amazement, and the celebration starts when Hinata is the first to yell. Everyone lets out their cheers too, including those in the box, and some of them cry, some laugh, and some tackle each other into fits of laughter.

From their fallen status, the crows rise again.

Suga runs halfway across the court, a spring in his step, to where Daichi is saying thank you to the referees and the opponent’s captain, and grabs onto him, hugging him so tight it’s hard to breathe, but in a good way that doesn’t make him want to throw up and give way on the court. He feels _alive._ Happy, in love, proud, and just so damn happy to be in this very moment. Both of them take a moment to stand there and relish in each others’ embrace, and Daichi spins him around as Suga's feet come off the ground; both of them are a giggling mess, happy tears dripping, just two lovebirds enjoying their time together.

When they’re done greeting everyone and saying their thanks, the three upperclassmen walk side by side in their final moments on the team, and Suga reaches to take Daichi’s hand into his own, intertwining their fingers. Daichi laughs, then initiates more contact by placing an arm around Suga’s shoulders. Suga feels alive, more than he has ever felt, and he wants to keep feeling this way, forever. 

The tight feeling in his chest and the warm churning in his belly aren’t associated with the negatives anymore, it’s the feeling he loves when the adrenaline is high and he doesn’t have the urge to throw up anymore. As the cheers come pouring down and he takes it all in, he doesn’t want to trade anything in the world for this feeling. 

“Koshi Sugawara, will you go out with me?” he hears a voice by his side, and he turns to see Daichi giving the most sincere look, as well as pleading eyes. It’s nothing but genuine emotion, just the two of them in their bubble even as the world around them celebrates. Suga is never more sure of anything than in the moment, doesn’t regret his choices in the past, and wants what is ahead of him even if he’s unsure about the new future he finds himself with. Nothing but purity in his thoughts, because all he sees is his partner and best friend for life.

He knows his answer without a second thought.

_“I would love to.”_

* * *

_Baby’s breath, soft blue cornflowers, lilacs, pink-tinted roses, and diphylleia grayi._

Both of them are standing at the altar, hand in hand. Daichi’s boutonniere is a grey rose with stalks of baby’s breath, while Suga’s is a black rose with stalks of _diphylleia grayi._ “You look amazing,” Suga hears him say, and he realizes it’s not a dream this time. Standing at the altar, he can see everyone’s faces clearly - Tanaka and Kiyoko in matching pieces, Asahi and Nishinoya beside Tanaka, Kageyama and Hinata in the second row beside their own parents, Hitoka beside Hinata, and the respective others of the team as well as friends from other teams who had agreed to be at the wedding. Suga isn’t exactly focusing on who’s there right now. All that matters is what’s in front of him - his partner for life.

“Before we begin, shall we hear a few words from the grooms?” the solemniser looked at them both, and Daichi took the lead from him, nodding with a short laugh.

“Well, uh, I’m just gonna keep this short,” he starts with a bashful grin, making everyone chuckle at the nervousness. “Ten years ago, Suga and I met for the first time, together with Asahi. We became friends, stuck by each other, learnt together. When things went south, I realized later that the one who’s always been by my side encouraging me and guiding me has been none other than Suga.” he looks over with a lovesick grin, hands holding tightly as he saw tears forming in Daichi’s eyes, which he hastily wiped off. Suga took the lead after Daichi signalled that he was too emotional to continue. 

“There was a time in my life where I went through what was probably the toughest, and I thought I would only live to see another ten years. I was still willing to wait for a day, a possibility to love the person my heart wanted, and I realize now how lucky I’ve gotten with a man like Daichi.” he’s grinning the same look Daichi has too, “At one point I asked myself if not having the surgery was worth it, was I that desperate to have _anything_ to feel _something?_ But now all I want to feel, for the decades and decades beyond, is the bliss I know the both of us will have. I would do anything, even if it means going through all that, just to be here with Daichi.”

Everyone erupts into claps, mainly from the guys in the front rows. 

When everything quietens, a young girl steps up to them - she’s probably about five, but she’s beginning to grow tall too, about the height of Suga’s thigh. She had a white dress on, her raven black hair in a cute updo, flowers in various varieties in her hair. She giggled and stood between them.

“Thank you, Akemi.” Suga bent down to kneel in front of their adopted daughter, kissing her forehead. It finally made sense now, the figure he didn’t recognize in their dream - it had been their adored baby girl, the one that caught both their eyes when the adoption centre had let them interact with the children. She had been so quiet, the opposite of both their personalities, but she was good at listening and had a flair for everything she found interest in. It was a plus that she had such soft features that took only one glance before the adoption papers were signed.

Akemi, brushing the strays from her face, merely giggled as she stood still beside them.

“Do you, _Daichi Sawamura,_ take _Koshi Sugawara,_ to be your lawfully wedded husband, and promise to cherish him, to take care, love, be it for richer, for poorer, for better or for worse, in times of sickness and the times in health?” the solemniser asked as Daichi held the ring, and Daichi nodded, whispering a soft and sincere _I do._

“Do you, _Koshi Sugawara,_ take _Daichi Sawamura,_ to be your lawfully wedded husband, and promise-” the solemniser had barely gone past the last bit before Suga interrupted with a soft _I do_ of his own, stirring laughs from the audience and the solemniser himself.

“Please exchange the rings.” he instructed as he watched the two put the rings on each other. The ring is simple, their initials carved side by side, and the frame splits into two coils that intertwine before it meets in the middle, in the middle of it a small flower piece that holds a small diamond.

“Well, by the power invested in me, you both are now married,” he claps along with the audience, “You may now kiss each other.”

“Akemi, close your eyes!” Nishinoya rushed forward, grabbing the girl and running off to the side benches, while Daichi and Suga snorted as they turned back to each other.

Everything flows like water, with pure intentions and nothing but innocence in their lingering gazes, as they take the steps forward to meet each other halfway. Their lips meet, and while this is not the first time they’ve kissed before, nor is it the first time it’s this intimate, it’s definitely one to remember - his lips are sweet, it moves so perfectly with his own, and his body melds into his own. They don’t let go until they can’t manage it longer, and they’re a smiling, blushing mess. 

“Toss the bouquet!” Suga hears the shouts of everyone else in the audience, already on their feet even though they’ve just parted. Both of them laugh - it’s funny, because they couldn’t decide who should get a bouquet, and it ended up with both of them having one bouquet each, but one with a black ribbon, and the other a silver ribbon.

Both of them turn around, and count down to make a synchronized toss. “One, two, three!”

When they turn back to the audience, both of them are in a laughing fit, because of all the people it could have landed with, the black ribbon bouquet ended up with Kageyama (formerly in Suga’s hands), and the silver ribbon bouquet ended up with Hinata (Daichi’s). It’s even funnier, considering Kageyama had been the one to approach Suga about his feelings for Hinata, but he sees the way Hinata kisses Kageyama on the cheek bashfully, the both of them now powerhouse players, and Suga knows they’ll be alright. Kageyama has grown, and so has Hinata. They’re perfect for each other.

Love was and still is a strange thing, Suga knows, but now that he understands all of it, he glances to Daichi, who’s carrying Akemi in his arms. He thinks of all the years they’ve been through, learning to love and growing with him, starting a new life after graduation, everything they’ve been through to be where they were, and to think years ago he was getting diagnosed with Hanahaki. How funny life often threw the most unexpected things.

_Purity and innocence; fragility in beauty; rarity in devotion. Anything to feel something._

_His new life was just truly beginning, and he couldn't wait._

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> everything bad has a good ending to it, even if it takes a while.
> 
> thank you for reading this fic!! this piece was inspired by _Expiration Date,_ another daisuga hanahaki fic that focuses on daichi instead. i fell in love with that piece and wanted to write one of my own. this was a wonderful experience and i hope you had fun reading this as much as i had writing it!
> 
> follow me on twitter! i post about daisuga sometimes. @/SUGAWARAVITY
> 
> x char


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